


Let Me Play Among the Stars

by EveningStarcatcher



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens), Starmaker Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22976011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EveningStarcatcher/pseuds/EveningStarcatcher
Summary: Aziraphale asks Crowley to show him how he helped create the starsBased on Gemennair'sbeautiful DTIYS!Title and song excerpt from Fly Me To the Moon by Frank Sinatra
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 61





	Let Me Play Among the Stars

The bell over the door jingled and Crowley strode into the bookshop, bag in hand. He ran his free hand through his windswept hair and shrugged off his damp coat.

“Crowley, dear is that you?” Aziraphale’s voice called from the back room, distant.

“Yeah, brought pastries!” He announced, sauntering across the shop, making his way toward the voice.

“Oh, how thoughtful! Perhaps we can enjoy them after you help me with something? That is, if you wouldn’t mind. You are so much better at this than I am.” His voice was lined with frustration and defeat. Crowley stood in the doorway, setting the bag onto the arm of the couch.

“What do you need, angel?” He crossed his arms and cocked his hip, watching with amusement as Aziraphale fiddled with something in his lap.

“It’s my watch. It’s not working again,” he admitted, holding it out to Crowley.

“Just get a new one. This one’s got to be, what, a thousand years old?” He reached out a long, slender arm and took the watch carefully, lifting it to eye-level to observe the damage.

“Not quite that long, my dear.” Aziraphale’s lips were pressed into a thin line as he watched Crowley for a diagnosis of his watch, as much a part of him as his tartan bow-tie and love of crepes.

“You didn’t take care of it. I’m surprised. I thought we talked about this,” Crowley sighed and tossed his glasses to the small coffee table. “I can fix this, but it’ll take a while. Go ahead and eat.” 

Crowley perched himself on the edge of the angel’s usual chair, using the desk as his workspace to tinker with the antique watch. He hunched over, his long form folding in on itself to be closer to his work. His forked tongue was just visible, peeking out of his thin lips in concentration, his hair fell down around his face and over his shoulders, reflecting the light in a sheet of delicate copper strands.

Aziraphale settled comfortably onto the old couch, nibbling at a chocolate croissant and watching Crowley work. His long fingers were gentle and sure, moving carefully and deliberately, like a spider weaving a web of fine silk. He checked the gears and coils, lifting the watch closer to the light to inspect it, furrowing his brow as he worked. His elbows were tucked against his sides, giving him a bit of added stability, preventing his forearms from shaking as he wound the miniscule screws in place.

“What’cha singing?” Crowley’s voice interrupted Azirphale’s dreamy observation, a note of fond amusement playing in his words. 

The angel had been lost in the meticulous movements of his partner, watching his fingertips glide over the antique components as if a choreographed dance. He smiled at the way the sun shone on his face, the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the curve of his nose, the sprinkling of freckles he so adored. He longed to reach out, to run his fingers through auburn hair, smoothing back the stray strands that tickled at Crowley’s forehead.

“What?” He was coming back to reality.

“You were humming. Sounded familiar,” Crowley glanced over with a smirk on his lips.

“I didn’t realize,” Azirpahale apologized. “I do hope I wasn’t bothering you.” He had finished the pastries long ago, absentmindedly nibbling as he watched the demon, then miracling more from the crumbs when he realized that he hadn’t properly tasted the treats.

“S’okay, angel. It was nice. Keep going.” Crowley smiled at the watch as he worked.

Aziraphale once again lost himself, watching the demon work with small, precise movements, and became aware that he was, indeed, humming. He started over, then added the words as they came to him.

_Fly me to the moon_

_Let me play among the stars_

“Is that… Sinatra?” Crowley asked, sitting up and staring at the angel, head cocked to the side, an amused smile . “Didn’t know you liked him.”

“It is and I do. Very nice voice,” Azirpahale smiled at Crowley, thrilled to still be able to surprise the demon after thousands of years. He had always had a soft spot for the crooner’s love songs, enjoying the strings and horns, the tinkling piano and soft percussion behind the smooth vocals. The sound was much more modern than the classics he usually listened to, but at its core, they weren’t so far removed from each other. The orchestrations, the emotions, the joy that filled his heart when he listened to it.

“I like that one, too.” Crowley turned back to his work.

Aziraphale stood and moved up behind the chair, to watch his partner more closely.

“You’re very good at this.” The angel peered over Crowley’s shoulder, one hand pressed lightly against his back. “Speaking of stars, Is this how you made them?”

“Stars?” Crowley repeated, having lost track of the thought.

“Yes, stars. From the song, my dear.” Aziraphale reminded, his head leaned against Crowley’s lightly, his voice soft against his hair. “Is this how you made the stars?”

“No,” Crowley muttered, still focused, leaning into his angel’s touch. “Nothing like this.”

He carefully tightened the last screw and inspected his work. The watch was now ticking happily, the steady beat of time passing. He held the watch out to for Aziraphale to inspect, and was surprised when the angel instead set the watch back onto the desk and took his hand, gently pulling it to rest against his heart.

“Can you show me?”

Crowley sat up, staring into blue eyes, open and sincere and full of adoration.

“Sure, angel.” He nodded. “Needs to be dark, though.”

“Of course!” Aziraphale wiggled as he dashed around the room pulling blinds down and flipping lights off. 

“Here, let me.” Crowley slowly drew his arms from his chest out to the sides, slightly curved at the elbow, his eyes closed, then swiftly brought them up, his fingers splayed, face contorted in concentration.

In a _whoosh_ of air everything was still and pitch dark. The screeches and beeps of London traffic were gone, the resonant tick of the grandfather clock was absent, and the familiar scent of old pages and ink was missing, replaced by a cool emptiness.

Aziraphale could hear a rustle of wings in front of him and followed suit, spreading his long wings out to the side, shivering at the sensation of the release. His halo began to glow, casting a soft golden light over himself and Crowley.

Crowley made a mental note to do this again as his heart fluttered at the sight before him. Aziraphale looked absolutely stunning illuminated by the golden light of his halo. His blue eyes glittered with specks of gold, the curves of his face highlighted, his lips soft and plump.

“How long have you been waiting to ask?” Crowley asked quietly, staring at his hands, hoping that they still remembered the intricacies of creation.

“Since you told me,” Aziraphale whispered.

“That was ages ago. You waited this long?” Crowley looked up in surprise. The angel was ancient and wise, but excitable and hedonic. It wasn’t like him to wait so long, to deny himself, especially when it was something so small, so trivial to Crowley’s eyes.

“I didn’t want to upset you. I wasn’t sure how you’d react, I know it’s difficult for you to remember before,” Aziraphale took Crowley’s thin hands in his sturdy grasp, running his thumbs along the backs in gentle circles.

“You didn’t have to wait so long. I would have shown you. Not sure I can even do it now.” Crowley shrugged, brushing off the weight of Aziraphale’s loving gaze. 

“I know you can. I also know you would have shown me anytime I asked, but it didn’t feel fair of me to ask that of you,” Aziraphale stared down as he entwined their fingers.

“And that’s changed?” Crowley whispered.

“I think so,” Aziraphale’s lips curved up in a small, sad, smile. “It felt too personal to ask before, but I think things are quite different now, don’t you?” He looked into Crowley’s eyes, shimmering gold in the angelic light, and leaned forward to place a kiss to his lips, gentle and overwhelming. When Aziraphale pulled back, Crowley’s eyes had fluttered closed. The demon’s head was spinning and he needed three deep breaths before he could rejoin reality. He opened his eyes to Aziraphale’s lovely smile and warm glow, aware that the angel’s heart was racing, pounding out waves of love with every beat.

“Stand back, angel,” Crowley grinned at him. Aziraphale beamed and quickly took two steps backward, then a third for good measure. He stood still, his torso included forward, eager to see the former star-maker at work, and dimmed his halo.

Crowley began by rubbing his hands together furiously, his shoulders hunched over himself. He brought his palms together in a quick clap, chuckling when he saw the angel jump in his peripheral vision. He drew his hands apart slowly, curving his fingers into a cage around a tiny glowing speck, golden and warm.

Aziraphale gasped softly and shuffled forward to get a better look, his eyes wide with wonder. Crowley noticed and strode over to him, holding up his hands in offering, so the angel could admire the tiny golden sphere floating between his hands.

“It’s warm,” the angel observed, an awestruck smile across his face, his fingertips fluttering to hover just outside of the cage of Crowley’s fingers. “Beautiful!”

“Just wait,” Crowley stepped away from the angel and removed his top hand and gently blowing on the orb, pushing it out of his hand. It hung there in the space before Crowley, pulsing and shivering, tossing out sparks as it vibrated and hummed with life.

Crowley stared at it, eyes slitted and narrowed, his head shifting from side to side. His hands were stretched before him, fluttering this way and that, planning, preparing, outlining the project before him.

He let his arms fall to his sides and stared at the slate before him for another long minute, then he began to move. His long limbs shifted and curled around it, gracefully, as if it were a ballet.

He moved on his toes around the orb, his hands pulling colors from the darkness and weaving them around in shades of crimson, bronze, violet, and turquoise. His hands curled and curved around the orb as he moved, teasing the colors into one another, his fingers pulsing with the rhythm of the starling. He pushed and pulled and twisted and shaped as if working with clay.

Aziraphale pulled his gaze away from the captivating sight of work for a moment to appreciate the creator. The shifting colors shone on his face, illuminating his brow, raised in joy, his eyes, bright with purpose, the long line of his nose taking in steady breaths, the broad smile on his lips. It reflected off his auburn hair and seemed to twist into every curl. He was stunning and Aziraphale’s heart soared in his chest at the sight.

Crowley circled his creation one last time, nodded with approval, then swiftly wrapped his hands around it, clapping once more with it between his palms. When he pulled his hands away, the orb was no longer shivering, but glowed with a steady certainty, shifting colors like a kaleidoscope, shimmering. 

“ _Crowley_ ,” Aziraphale breathed, afraid to ruin the moment. “It’s incredible.” 

Crowley stood before Aziraphale, star in hand. He shook it slightly and sparks of gold flew from it, as if it were a firework, beaming as it did.

“May I?” Aziraphale asked. Crowley nodded and set the star to hover in midair, allowing the angel to get a better look. He circled it, taking in every angle with wide-eyed wonder. The light in his hair transformed it into stardust, the reflection in his eyes gave the impression of electricity crackling behind them in tendrils of lightning, the soft roundness of his cheeks turned into marble, and his pink lips were curved into an “o”, though no sound escaped them, lost in the beauty of the star before him.

“It’s not my best work, but it’s pretty nice.” Crowley smiled, sliding his hand around his angel’s waist when he came to a stop beside him.

“It’s exquisite!” Azirphale praised. “What will you do with it now?”

“Dunno, let it burn out I guess,” Crowley shrugged.

“Oh no, darling, you mustn’t!” Aziraphale shifted forward, out of Crowley’s grip, clutched at his hand, and pulled him closer to his creation. “Do you even know what you did? Look!” Azirpahale pointed and gestured for Crowley to look closer.

“The colors, the shapes, the patterns. It’s all us!” Aziraphale exclaimed, bouncing on his toes in time with the gentle pulses light radiating from the star. “The soft whites and creams that curl like my hair, blues that could be my eyes, sharp streaks of red and copper that match your hair perfectly, and gorgeous yellow that remind me of your eyes. The sharpness and the softness of us both rolled into one being. It’s stunning. It’s _love_.”

Crowley’s wide eyes moved from Aziraphale’s eager face to his creation, looking closer. He saw them in every detail, moving together, becoming one.

“Do you see it?” Azirpahale clung to his arm, willing him to see it.

“I do,” Crowley turned to face Aziraphale, whose eyes were wet, full of pride and unbridled affection. “And now I know just what to do with it.” He smiled down at Aziraphale and took the star in hand. He twisted it between his fingers, blew a gentle stream of air over it, then brought his hands together, crushing it between his palms.

“Crowey!” Aziraphale cried, hands flying to his mouth in despair.

“Just wait,” Crowley instructed. He rubbed his hands together, slow at first, then faster and faster until he brought them up over his head and pulled them apart, spreading great arcs of stardust into the air. It hovered and glimmered, almost alive, as if the star hadn’t been broken into bits, but had given parts of itself away, spreading its life among each particle it touched. “Why not spread that love around? No use in keeping it all to itself. Rather useless that way, love.”

“Quite right.” Aziraphale’s halo pulsed with faint light, his hands pressed against his chest, a soft grin spreading across his face. “You’re wrong you know.”

“About what?” Crowley stared up at the galaxy of light he’d created.

“It’s exactly how you make stars.” Aziraphale slipped his arm into Crowley’s and stood, pressed against his side.

“No it’s not! Fixing a watch and creating stars are not the same!” Crowley muttered without any heat behind it.

“Oh, but it is, dear.” They stood together, staring at the glittering sky above them. “It’s all in how your work - so carefully, thoughtfully, with precision and devotion. It’s truly a wonder to watch. You’re beautiful, you know, when you work. So deeply invested in what you’re creating. Thank you for sharing this with me.” 

“I’m not done yet, angel.” Crowley stepped forward and blew a stream of air, rotating his torso from right to left, and the stars began to move, circling the room.

“Oh Crowley! It’s like a snow globe!” 

Aziraphale stood in the center of it all, arms extended, spinning slowly, his head raised in laughter joyful and childlike.

“How’s it feel?” Crowley inquired, standing behind the angel and taking him in his arms.

“Feel?” Aziraphale asked, placing his hands over Crowley’s on his stomach.

“To play among the stars. Bet old Frankie is jealous.” He smirked, resting his head against Aziraphale’s shoulder.

“Oh, my dear, it’s simply indescribable!” Aziraphale turned in Crolwey’s embrace. They stood chest to chest, watching the stars and each other. 

“I’m glad you like it.”

“So very much.”

“I could take you to the moon, if you want,” Crowley suggested, his eyes tracing the shape of Aziraphale’s lips.

“I think I’m content right here.” Aziraphale leaned in, lips hovering just a breath from Crowley’s.

“Good,” Crowley managed to say before he closed the distance between them, lips colliding and sending sparks into each other.

An angel and a demon stood in a bubble of time reserved just for them and kissed under a galaxy of stars.

**Author's Note:**

> Also on tumblr at EveningStarcatcher


End file.
